


Great Strength, Great Weakness

by grapehyasynth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Fluff, but it'll be okay i promise, do not come here expecting fluff, jemma in the field, kinda serious, there's actually plot in this one???, tumblr ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7045021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon on Tumblr asked: Could I prompt you to write a fic based on Lil's con answer? </p><p>"What is Jemma’s greatest weakness and her greatest strength and what storylines do you want her to have in season four?</p><p>Elizabeth: Fitz and Fitz [the entire audience goes ‘awww’] I think it is - I think they, especially in season one they were each other’s greatest weakness because they couldn’t survive without each other, and now they’ve learnt to do that, they’ve gained a lot of strength from that. But I think as an agent you almost need to have no ties to be able to live that life, it’s something someone can exploit." </p><p>Revolves around a Jemma solo mission + its aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Strength, Great Weakness

“I have some bad news,” Coulson announced to the assembled team.

 “Again?” Mack exclaimed.

 “I really gotta stop leading with that, huh?” Coulson said apologetically, then continued, “Ian Quinn is back on the scene.”

 “Of course he is,” May muttered at the same time that Daisy said loudly, “Why on earth didn’t he text me? He and I are like so tight.”

 “What mess is he causing this time?” Mack asked Coulson. Though he hadn’t been around during Quinn’s first reign of terror, he’d heard about Daisy’s brush with death and felt a certain protective hatred towards the billionaire.

 “You all remember Dr. Hall and his experiments with gravitonium? Well, turns out Quinn hasn’t let go of that particular endeavor. _And_ he’s a big fan of our very own Dr. Radcliffe’s work with artificial intelligence.”

“Let me guess,” Fitz interrupted, a finger already pressed to the anxious crease in his forehead. “He’s got some inane idea that using gravitonium he can imbue an AI with the ability to control gravity, essentially creating his own superhero -- or army of superheroes?”

“Very good, Agent Fitz,” Coulson said drily.

“Inane and _insane,_ ” Mack sighed.

“Is that even possible?” Daisy demanded.

“Unfortunately, hypothetically, yes,” Jemma answered, exchanging a worried look with Fitz. “Radcliffe’s AIs aren’t _clones_ \-- that is, they’re not human. They don’t have flesh and blood. So you could provide them with certain inhuman -- sorry,” she said quickly, catching Daisy’s expression, “ _superhuman,_ or _nonhuman_ , properties. The science is a bit iffy, but if anyone has the resources and technology to give it a go, it’s Quinn.”

“So what’s the mission? Kidnapping? Assassination?” May suggested hopefully. Fitz took a tiny step further away from her.

“Too obvious. Quinn still has a range of legitimate business operations throughout the world -- taking him out at this point would cause too much of a stir. God, it’s weird to be this clinical about this stuff,” Coulson observed. “When did we become this jaded?”

They all started rattling off terrible things that had happened to their team within the last three years, so Coulson threw up his hands.

“Okay, I get it. We have reasons to be bitter and wish bad things on bad people. There’ll be time for that later. _Maybe_ ,” he added quickly, as May’s lips quirked into a tiny smile. “Only as a last resort. For now, though, I’m going to need to ask Agent Simmons to go into the field.”

“Me?” Jemma squeaked, as all heads turned to look at her. She felt, more than saw, Fitz cross his arms next to her.

“Honestly, sir, this sounds like something more up Fitz’s alley,” Mack cut in.

“You be quiet!” Jemma told him sharply before turning back to Coulson. “I don’t understand.”

“Last Quinn heard, you were working for Hydra. Right now that’s a major advantage. Until he learns otherwise, I plan on exploiting that misinformation.”

“And who will be going with me?”

“You’ll be going alone.”

“Alone?” Daisy, Mack, and Fitz exclaimed in unison.

“Everyone else on this team is a known S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. And moreover, this isn’t a smash-and-grab operation. It’s a lot more delicate. Did you ever play Operation, Agent Simmons?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I performed my first _actual_ operation at age 14, so--”

“Right. So you get the idea. We need you to go in, get what we need, and get out without causing a disturbance.”  

“Phil, Agent Simmons hasn’t been alone in the field since--” May said quietly.

“I know,” Coulson cut her off. “And this is a risk, but I think it’s important that we take it.” He looked at Jemma. “Are you up for this, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma squared her shoulders, carefully not look at any of the others. “What do you need me to do?”  
  
  
  


Jemma walked as briskly as she could down the hallways of Quinn’s North American headquarters without looking like she was running from something. She wasn’t, really, but she had to fight the urge to look over her shoulder every five feet.

It had taken a surprising amount of arguing among the team before they had agreed to let Coulson send her in alone. She was rather touched, honestly, but she was sure Fitz would have some harsh words for her for agreeing to this. Silly man worried too much. Mack had practically had to strap him down to keep him from getting on the Quinjet with her and the pilot.

With Daisy on comms, she’d avoided security personnel and gained access to several labs using a fabricated ID badge and fake biometric pads, a new piece of tech she and Fitz had developed. None of the labs showed the slightest indication of any work being conducted on either AI or gravitonium, though that was to be expected: this was Quinn’s pet project and involvement would thus be limited to a select few scientists.

“Jemma,” Daisy’s voice crackled over her earbud, cutting into her thoughts. “There’s a room to your left, but there’s not a door on the blueprints. Do you see anything?”

“Looks like a blank wall,” Jemma muttered back, glancing at what was apparently dense concrete.

“Try putting your hand on it.”

Jemma did so, feeling intensely stupid, but the wall gave slightly, a section moving backwards and aside.

“That’s actually really cool,” Daisy chuckled. “We gotta get something like that in the base.”

“Like Coulson doesn’t already have one of those,” Jemma whispered back, edging around the door and into a darkened lab. “Looks like no one’s here.”

“That’s good for you, right?”

“Yeah, or it’s a trap.” Jemma chewed her lip, one hand on the gun tucked in the back of her trousers, hidden by her lab coat. “There’s a lot of tech in here, anything more specific to go on?”

“Coulson said it’s probably no larger than an alarm clock. Which _totally_ dates him, I mean who doesn’t use their phone anymore... But yeah, a little cube.”

Jemma poked carefully through the rows of lab benches and shelves. According to a S.H.I.E.L.D. plant in Quinn’s design team, Quinn had developed -- at great expense -- a miniature version of his gravitonium containment unit which could be incorporated into the design for an artificially intelligent humanoid to control and disseminate the gravitonium. Fitz had theories about how exactly the device would function, but stealing it now would serve the double purpose of crippling Quinn’s endeavor (albeit temporarily) and allowing Fitz to study the device and develop a disabling mechanism. By the time Quinn was able to recreate his work, they’d be armed with the tech to render his superhuman AIs ineffective.

Or so was the hope.

“I think I’ve got something,” Jemma whispered, circling a case in which a small cube, seemingly made of metal and plastic, rested. “Can you get any read on what kind of security is on it?”

“Hang on...” Jemma could hear Daisy typing rapidly. “Nothing. This is so weird, Jemma -- there’s literally nothing. No lasers, no alarms, no heat sensors.”

“Could be a decoy,” Jemma mused. “Only one way to find out.”

“Jemma, _don’t_ \--”

But she’d already grabbed it.

Nothing happened. Daisy had been right. Jemma realized she hadn’t been breathing, and she laughed shakily as she checked back in on her racing heartbeat.

“This is almost fun,” she said to Daisy as she reached into her pocket for the cloaking cloth Fitz had leant her to get the cube out of the building.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Daisy chuckled, but before she could respond another voice spoke, directly behind Jemma, in the same room.

“Is that it, then?”

She whirled to find Fitz, of all people, directly behind her, one hand outstretched towards the cube.

“Fitz!” Jemma whispered, clasping a hand around his wrist and removing her earbud so that Daisy wouldn’t overhear. “What are you doing here? Coulson told you to stay on base!”

“Well, he changed his mind, didn’t he?” Fitz said impatiently.

“You’ll get us both killed!”

“I’m just as much an agent as you are,” he grumbled.

“I never said -- oh, we can do this later. Let’s get out of here,” Jemma hissed, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind her. She stuck her earbud back in. “Daisy, tell the pilot I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“You got it.”

Jemma heard Daisy making the call and took the opportunity to switch off comms entirely. “Did you really think it was necessary to follow me here?” she demanded of Fitz in a furious whisper as they speed-walked back towards the entrance, nodding occasionally at passing techs. “I can handle myself, Fitz.”

“I just wanted to help,” he grumbled petulantly.

“Well--”

But she’d never finish that sentence, because in the next second Fitz’s hand was jerked away from her. She spun to look back at him, an admonition already forming on her tongue. Instead, she saw Ian Quinn, looking smug and amused, standing in the middle of the hallway, one arm around Fitz’s neck, the other holding a gun to Fitz’s temple.

“No!” Jemma gasped before she could stop herself.

  
“Hello, Agent Simmons.” Quinn smiled slightly, barely seeming to notice Fitz struggling in his grip. “I don’t know that we’ve formally met. I mostly know you as the person who gets in the way of my plans.”

“I’m not -- I’m on the same side as you,” Jemma said quickly, scrabbling to hold on to the situation. “I work for Hydra, like you--”

“Hydra is old news,” Quinn interrupted, “and we both know you’re with S.H.I.E.L.D. Always have been, always will be.”

“Please, I -- Fitz and I, we were exploring your facilities -- we were on a tour, we’re considering applying to work with you, but we wanted to get a sense of the work you do -- but Fitz went looking for a snack, the silly man, and we got cut off from the tour group--”

“Just give me the cube back, Agent Simmons.” Quinn jerked his chin at her, his hands being otherwise occupied. “Be grateful I didn’t send my goons to do it. You’d both be dead.”

“Why _did_ you come yourself?” Jemma asked, hoping to divert his attention while she went for her gun. He was watching her too closely, though.

“Can’t trust the hired help. Actually, I wanted to make sure you said hi to Phil for me,” Quinn shrugged. “Now give it to me or I’m shooting loverboy.”

Fitz’s eyes pled with Jemma. Whether to do something or to flee, she couldn’t tell -- she knew what he was probably saying, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Okay,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Okay, just -- let him go.”

“You first.”

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” Jemma said, in an echo of words he’d expressed to her before jumping through a portal to Maveth.

She carefully retracted the cube from her deep lab coat pocket and slid off the cloaking fabric.

“Fascinating!” Quinn exclaimed, seeing the cube appear as if out of thin air. “I’m almost tempted to keep young Agent Fitz here so I can have him tell me how that works.” He walked forward, still holding Fitz, so he could grab the cube with his gun hand. “As it is, though--”

And he shot Fitz in the head.

“No!” Jemma screamed. She didn’t remember running forward but Fitz crumpled to the floor and she reached him just before his head hit the concrete.

“No no no no no,” Jemma whimpered, running her hands over his head and chest, not noticing Quinn walking away whistling, all thought of the mission forgotten. “Fitz, _no_ \--”

And then she realized.

There was no blood.

There was a hole at Fitz’s temple, but there was no blood.

Swallowing, she turned Fitz’s wrist over and started to openly weep when she saw the barcode tattooed there, just as she’d seen on the AIs Radcliffe had showcased for the team several weeks before.

Jemma stumbled to her feet, backing away from the humanoid, feeling distinctly like she was about to vomit.

A distant crackling from her earbud, still hanging down her shoulder, brought her back to where she was, still exposed in the belly of the beast. She plugged her comms back in and sprinted for the exit.  
  


Her hands were still shaking by the time she’d disembarked the Quinjet and hurried into the Playground. She made a beeline for the lab but May intercepted her, having heard via Daisy what had occurred at Quinn’s compound. May escorted her directly to Coulson’s office.

“They already have a functioning AI?” Coulson demanded. Jemma could tell he was barely containing an explosive anger.

“Yes, sir. One of Radcliffe’s, apparently.”

Coulson slammed his robot hand against his desk. May didn’t flinch, but Jemma could see the tightness around her lips. “And he let you leave alive?”

“As I understood it, sir, he knew we were coming and he wanted me to pass a message.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Jemma cleared her throat and looked between the two agents, then said softly, “Trust no one.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Coulson sat on the edge of his desk, covering his eyes with one hand.

“Sir, if I may--”

“I think you’ve done quite enough for today, Agent Simmons,” Coulson snapped.

Jemma jerked back as if he’d struck her.

“Phil--” May said warningly.

“Dismissed, Agent Simmons.”

  
  
  


Jemma had promised herself she would be strong for Fitz, but the minute he opened his bunk door, she started crying. “Fitz,” she gasped, grabbing his face in both hands, feeling every inch of him, checking his pulse and ghosting her thumb over his lips and looking deeply into his eyes, desperate to know that they were _his_ eyes and not those of some imitation lying lifeless on a concrete floor.

“Hey, hey,” he said, alarmed, pulling her inside. “What happened? -- I was at the gym and then took a shower, didn’t want to know what was happening at Quinn’s, but -- Jemma, what happened?”

He sat her on his bed and knelt before her, his hands on her knees. She covered her face in his hands and said between sobs, “Fitz, Quinn had an AI -- and he -- and it -- it looked like you--”

 “What?” Fitz spluttered, flabbergasted.

“Fitz, he _shot_ you,” Jemma cried, sliding her hands up into her hair. “You were -- you were d--”

“Hey,” Fitz said quickly, climbing onto the bed next to her and pulling her to his chest. She sobbed harder at feeling his heartbeat. “That wasn’t me. That was a bundle of wires and circuits with no real connection to me -- This is me, right here, with you.”

“How do I know?” Jemma demanded, pushing him away slightly but without much force. “How do I know you’re not another one of those--”

“The first words I ever said to you were ‘Try glutamate,’” Fitz interrupted calmly. “You gave me a stuffed monkey for my twentieth birthday and I accidentally left it with my mum and was terrified you’d never speak to me again. Your dad’s middle name is Gregor and you laughed while watching _Paranormal Activity_ and it really pissed me off.”

Jemma let out a shuddering, watery chuckle. Fitz grinned into her hair, rubbing his hand in circles over her back. They sat like that for a moment as Jemma’s tears and breathing calmed.

“How did Quinn have an AI of me?” Fitz mused, troubled. “You don’t think Radcliffe would sell him one--”

“No, but I do think Radcliffe would include a feature to reprogram physical features,” Jemma said, leaning back slightly to wipe at her eyes. “The tech already exists -- remember those masks Ward and Agent 33 were so fond of?”

“This does make things a bit more complicated,” Fitz said grimly.

“Oh god, Fitz, I haven’t even told you the worst part yet--”

“You haven’t?” Fitz laughed. “I would’ve thought my dying--”

“I gave him back the cube,” Jemma moaned. “The mission was for nothing, he knows I’m not Hydra, and he’ll still be advancing with his fanatical, maniacal project.”

“Any of us would have done the same thing in your place,” Fitz assured her. “Daisy, Mack, May -- they wouldn’t have let Quinn shoot me, even if it meant him keeping the tech.”

“It’s not just that, Fitz, it’s -- apparently the whole world knows that you’re my greatest weakness--”

“I’m your weakness?” Fitz repeated, a small grin poking the corner of his mouth up. “That’s almost romantic.”

“It’s not!” Jemma protested. “It makes me a lousy agent and an easy target. Our relationship is a liability.”

“Oh, that’s all I am to you, a liability?” Fitz changed tack rapidly, rearranging his face to glower petulantly.

“Of course not,” Jemma sighed rolling her eyes. “I’m just saying, perhaps S.H.I.E.L.D. has rules against inter-agent fraternization for a reason.”

“Jemma... Are you breaking up with me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jemma scoffed, assuming he was still teasing, but then she saw the very real terror on his face. “Oh, Fitz, like that would have any effect. Even if we weren’t together, the way I feel about you compromises my focus in the field. If anything, _not_ being with you might be more distracting.”

“How _did_ we get any work done in the past twelve years?” Fitz chuckled, pulling her close again.

“We were blind idiots,” Jemma replied ruefully. Fitz hummed in agreement.

“What would make you feel better right now,” Fitz grinned at her, “snogging or going to work on a new way to disable Quinn’s tech?”

“Hmm... a bit of both,” Jemma decided, pushing him down on the bed.

  
  


Coulson stopped by the lab several hours later. Jemma was tinkering at her workstation, not really making any progress but needing to at least run through the available data again to feel like she was doing _something_.

“Agent Simmons -- Jemma,” Coulson corrected himself, stopping next to her. “I wanted to apologize for shouting at you earlier.”

“No, sir, please, don’t baby me,” Jemma rushed, putting down her tablet. “I acted a fool and ruined an important mission and if Quinn is able to take over the world with gravity-warping humanoids, it’ll be my fault.”

“You made a tough call given the information you had. You ended up being wrong, but no one can fault you for that. We win some, we lose some.”

Jemma chewed her lip and looked down at her hands. “I would understand if you wanted to enforce the anti-fraternization policy, sir.”

“Jemma, do you want to know why I think that policy is pointless?”

Jemma looked up in surprise.

“Because it wouldn’t work. Even if our agents never got involved with each other, which is a ridiculous expectation to uphold, the bonds we form extend way beyond the romantic. It’s impossible to not have some weakness.”

“But we were always told at the Academy that spies need to be as disconnected as possible,” Jemma said, brow furrowed.

“You saw how well that worked for Agent May,” he noted. “And Grant Ward was especially good at keeping people out, and he ended up being as close to evil as a man can get. Relationships make us vulnerable, sure, but they also make us stronger. Does that make sense?”

“Honestly, sir, not at all. It’s scientifically improbable, if not impossible, that one entity could be simultaneously fortified _and_ undermined--”

“Let me try this then.” Coulson considered for a moment, gathering the right words, then proceeded slowly, “I would hate to work on a team where the people didn’t care. Because that’s the one thing that separates us from the bad guys. The people we love are our weakness, yes, and that’ll always be true, but it means we have something to fight for. Something to live for. Do you understand?”

Jemma’s eyes slipped over Coulson’s shoulder, where she could see Fitz arguing with one of their technicians. Fitz gestured with a beaker and nearly dropped it in the process, then tried to blame it on the tech.

Jemma smiled, inexplicable warmth and calm spreading through her for the first time all day. “Yes, Director, I think I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I almost never write actual plots, haha, so this was a fun challenge! Hope it worked out okay. 
> 
> Was unsure whether to mark "major character death" because technically Fitz doesn't die but... if anyone things differently I can change the tag! 
> 
> Thanks to the anon, whoever you are -- this was a great prompt! 
> 
> And yes, all the science is total bullshit :P
> 
> Find me on Tumblr! I'm grapehyasynth there as well.


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